His Name Was Waxer
by Apples Who Dance With Oranges
Summary: Two weeks after the Battle of Umbara and Boil still hasn't came to terms with Waxer's death. One late night he finds himself in the mess hall still trying to avoid the topic, but can his friends from Ghost Company consult him in his hour of need?


**Chapter One.  
**

Life on a star destroyer was interesting, every crew member was essentially just another gear on the huge war machine. Crew members lived their lives around how it'd effect the star destroyer, they ate and slept only when it'd be convenient for the destroyer. Days would mix in with months and months would feel like only weeks, some crew members wouldn't see a planet's surface for months and when they did they were so intoned with the ship they wouldn't even step off the destroyer. This was something that ground troops could never understand, especially the men of the 212th Attack Battalion. Veteran members like Boil always felt vulnerable on the destroyers, an uneasy sense filled him as they would spend days just traveling to their next location. However, for once in a long time Boil found comfort in the star destroyer. He watched in amusement as crew members ran around and enjoyed the odd silence of the crew's quarters at night. It had been two weeks since Umbara, but Boil still refused to talk about what happened in the darkness of that battle. He just continued on with his days on the destroyer, sleeping and volunteering for any extra patrols the fleet security team had in his free time.

"Got any room for us?" A voice called over from behind Boil who was enjoying his late dinner in the mess hall, it was the only time he could avoid the large crowed of men from the 212th and at this hour only the skeleton crew of maintainers were eating. Looking behind him he locked eyes with one of his oldest friends within the unit, Wooley. The two of them had first met on Ryloth when Wooley had first been attached to Ghost Company, Boil at the time had already gone through the Battle of Teth where he saw some action but by the time he left he was recognized for his actions and was one of the first members of Ghost Company to wear the orange markings of the 212th. By the time they left Ryloth Wooley had proved himself a capable soldier and quickly joined Boil in decorating his no longer shiny armor. Boil had to admit that it was almost comical how long ago that was, it almost felt like better days.

Behind Wooley was Trapper, another good friend of his but not an original members of the 212th. Trapper had an unique career as he was the few members of the 212th that started in another unit, his original unit was the 91th Reconnaissance Corps where he fought on Malastare and later after suffering injuries he decided to be reassigned to the 212th. Instead of waiting through the redeployment process to rejoin the 91st which was now mostly replacements who Trapper wouldn't of even recognized. Boil at first was unsure of Trapper as any clone who would leave behind his batch brothers to join a new unit was suspicious, but Boil was quickly proven wrong as Trapper quickly become one of his most trusting friends and a great asset to the unit.

"Always got room for you two." Boil chuckled softly, motioning towards the two seats across the table from him. The two quickly took the offer and set their trays down, all three of them still outfitted in their armor with their helmets clustered at the end of the table. Boil's eyes weakly examined their armor which had bee battle tested, all the way from scorch marks to deep cuts made from shrapnel. Their orange markings more decorative then before as the years made the three of them climb within ranks allowing them to personalize their armor a bit more to be recognized by the lower ranking. Boil had been made a Sergeant a few months ago, while the other two both held the rank of Corporal for some time and word within the chain of command was that they both would be looking at promotions soon.

"I swear I don't know how the crew stay thin with grub like this." Trapped commented as he decided to break the silence first. Trapper always had stronger taste buds than the other men, the rations they had in the field could never quell his desire for a tastier treat. His taste buds were how he got his name in the first place, back in the day when he first got assigned to the 91st he got tired of field rations and went out on an unauthorized hunting trip. After four hours he caught enough wildlife to feed half his regiment, hence the name Trapper due to his hunting and tracking skill.

Wooley flashed the two his trademark toothy smile, "I swear after this war is over you need to open a restaurant."

"With an ugly mug like that, he'd scare all the customers away." Boil grinned, as the three clones laughed at the playful jab at the fact they all shared the same face. Of the group though Trapper was the only one who carried visible scars, running down his chin was a deep scar which he got from an explosion which nearly ripped his helmet in half. They all had the same face, but carried defining features that gave them stronger identities. Trapped with his slicked back hair and his scar, Boil with his finely groomed mustache. Wooley however had a very defining feature which per military regulations he had to get rid of, due to some type of defect in the tank Wooley's hair was unlike any clone's hair. It was unkept and frizzy, thus his batch brothers named him Wooley and his training instructor forced him to keep a buzz cut from day one of training.

The three continued eating their meal as they shared a few stories they had developed over the past two weeks on the destroyer. Thing felt normal for Boil for the first time in a while, in the hour he spent with his two closest friends he forgot all about Umbara and the horrors that came with the planet. His sense of uneasiness and the constant nightmares all came to a halt as the three just enjoyed a friendly conversation. For a moment Boil forgot that there was anyone else in the mess hall until Wooley raised his hand and waved someone over. Coming from the west wing was Crys, the blonde hair clone carrying a tray as it would seem he just got off his additional duty shift.

"Surprised to see you guys here." Crys commented as he joined the three, Boil making room on the bench beside him. Crys was rather handy when it came to electronics, General Kenobi using him to preform robolotomy on captured droids and Commander Cody usually had Crys nearby working to keep communication signals secured. The moment the 212th boarded the destroyer Crys found himself working beside the naval communication experts, helping them better adjust their procedures for better air-to-ground communications.

"Another late night on the bridge?" Trapper asked, carefully applying two different sauces on his food to enhance the flavor of the spices.

"Yeah, these guys don't understand how ground comm-link jammers work." Crys sighed heavily, rubbing the side of his temple as he had a long day of briefing, "The bridge crew has no idea that ground forces can't just bypass the first phase of the jamming sequence and how the naval crew need to increase their signal range by only .5 decimals to get a clear reading of the status."

Wooley chuckled softly at Crys' usual technical rant, "Mind speaking in basic?"

Crys smirked at Wooley as he knew very well that sometimes he could get a bit technical when it came to his job. Boil sighed heavily as he was truly enjoying the time with his friends, but reality slowly came creeping back. The emptiness that had been haunting him started to take over and the sensation of his nerves getting the best of him made him anxious. Wooley took note of this, the two had known each other the best and he could pick up on Boil's mood change rather easily. The three clones all shared a look as they knew it was time to bring up the topic, Trapper was never great at consulting and Crys was always unsure how to start these types of things. Wooley however was probably one of the most caring clones they knew, his keen sense with other emotions and personality was what Boil needed.

"You know we all miss him." Wooley spoke up, both his friends looked down nervously as they were unsure how Boil would react.

Crys nervously fidgeted with his spoon, "Yesterday I was working on the company comm channel and I realized how much easier it was when I had him lending a hand."

Trapper awkwardly coughed, "He was always willing to test out my ration surprise out in the field. Yeah, they were usually horrible but he had no problem letting me spice up his meal."

Boil just sat there in silence. He knew that he meant something to everyone, but deep down inside he knew he was hurting the most. They all just sat there for the past two weeks avoiding his name, keeping away from the topic. It was if it was taboo to mention what happened, it was as if everyone just waned to forget. Boil could feel his muscles tense up just thinking about how unfair it was, how the situation should of played out differently. Boil played the event over and over in his head, just thinking about the countless things that could of gone differently. If the order hadn't been given, if he was three feet to the left or three feet to the right, or even if Boil's platoon had been sent instead.

"Why?" Boil muttered weakly.

Such a simple question and Wooley just couldn't think of an answer.

Trapper however the one who usually felt uneasy with these types of situations spoke up, "When I got hit on Malastare I was so worried that the 91st would move on to the next battle without me and that my brothers would forget about me. Yet, by the time I healed up and checked the company roaster I didn't recognize a single name on that list. I spent so much time worrying my brothers wouldn't recognize me when I got back, that I didn't even consider if they'd still be there when I did."

Wooley placed his hand on Trapper's back motioning for him to continue, "When I got to the 212th I was worried that history would repeat. I'd get hit and once again I'd loose all my friends so I decided I wouldn't make any, but the moment I arrived he made me feel so welcomed. I mean... I don't know where I'm going with this, but you know even if he's gone all the things he's done will forever be with us."

Boil looked up for the first time making eye contact with his friends, "Thank you Trapper."

"He was a great friend and a great soldier." Crys added on, "I honestly think the commander was getting worried that he'd be after his job one day."

Boil couldn't help it, but he laughed. It was the first real laugh he had in a while, not a fake chuckle just to keep up appearances. A light grin displayed on his face now Boil sat up straight, "Thanks guys. I needed that."

"No problem." Wooley smiled back, "He might be gone but you still have us."

"As dysfunctional as we can be." Trapper added on, nudging Wooley playfully.

Silence filled the room once again. Everyone unsure what to say as fearful they'd ruin the now somewhat joyful environment they had created. Boil smiled as he started to look back on the memories they had, "You guys remember our first time to Cantina 79 and that dancer started hitting on him."

Trapper was the first to laugh, "He was so uncomfortable!"

"Not as funny as that time Crys and him drank so much they both were sick for days!" Boil added on laughing even louder then before. Crys now bright red in the face as the memories the group shared at the clone bar known as Cantina 79 usually ended with embarrassing. Crys looked around happy to see that at least the last crew members had left meaning no one heard the embarrassing story.

"Found you two passed out in the barrack refresher basically cuddling." Wooley snickered softly, as he knew Crys was embarrassed but it couldn't be helped.

"He was full of memories." Boil muttered, as his smile slowly disappeared and without warning he felt a single tear escape his eye. Racing down his cheek he could feel the tear reach his chin and make a leap off his face. It felt as if an air lock had been open and all the joy that once filled the room had been sucked out, the four clones all became very silent and their smiles were replaced. Boil tried to keep the tears back, but one escaped and then another. Suddenly, his vision became blurry and he had no idea how to stop. His breathing became heavy and his hands began shaking.

"Stop crying." Crys muttered as tears began running down his face, "That's my job."

"You two are such babies." Trapper whimpered, sniffling as he struggled to hold back his tears. Looking to his left he locked eyes with Wooley, the two corporals resting their hands on each others backs.

"I miss him so much." Boils broke out, now heavily sobbing just at the simple thought of his long time friend. They were batch brothers and had spent years together all the way from day one. They were together from training day to their first day of combat. His body shook violently as finally two weeks of bottling up his emotions got to him. He was tired and exhausted, he had been pushing himself so hard to avoid this and regardless of all the work it still was happening. Tears streamed down his face and fell into his lap, yet Boil couldn't deny the fact that he felt a heavy weight just lifted from his shoulders. Looking up he could see the pain in his friend's eyes, "Why Waxer?"

That was the first time anyone had said his name since the initial report.

 _Waxer._

 _212th Attack Battalion._

 _Original member of Ghost Company._

 _Sergeant of 2nd Platoon._

 _Loyal soldier._

 _Friend._

"He was such a great friend and yet just another number for the media to discuss." Boil coughed out, as the tears slowly began to stop and the shaking came to an end. It had been two weeks of suffering and now he got ti all out. He had only been crying for a minute or so, but it felt like hours. The tears were quick, but the suffering would be forever. If he lived past this war he'd probably spend his years aging, constantly thinking about the friend he lost in the war. Maybe he'd stay in the military to honor Waxer's sacrifice or maybe he'd jump ship the moment the war was won. Their future was uncertain, but all he knew was that any future he did have he would have to have one without Waxer.

"He meant something to us." Wooley made sure Boil heard his words, "That's all that matters."

"He wasn't a number to us." Crys added, his eyes glaring down at the floor.

"None of them were." Trapper added on, "Gearshift, Longshot, Waxer, and so many more."

"I'm glad I got that out." Boil sighed heavily as he stood up from his seat, "This war isn't over and a lot more of our brothers are gonna die before it's over."

Wooley nodded in agreement, he knew it was a thing that most clones wanted to admit but it was true. The Separatists had yet to show any sign of surrendering and the only way they'd win if they took out both General Grievous and Count Dooku. Yet, Dooku had shown countless times that he could handle even the Jedi Order's best fighters and Grievous would escape the moment things shifted from his favor. The droids themselves showed no wear and tear from years the fight, slight alteration to programming fixed any type of overly personalize settings. Wooley joined Boil in standing, "We just need to watch each others backs."

"Keep working to an end of this war." Trapped added on, sighing heavily as he also stood up.

Crys grinned as he joined them, "And never forget the names of our lost brothers."

"His name was Waxer." Boil stated with a smile, "And he was the best brother any of us could of asked for."


End file.
